


Like A Tomahawk Buried In My Chest

by allthosepaperpeople



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 3x11, Angst, M/M, Manpain, Oneshot, i dont mean that ironically, inner monologue, just fyi this is my headcanon, stuff like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 20:29:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2039052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthosepaperpeople/pseuds/allthosepaperpeople
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The voice is the only thing left for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like A Tomahawk Buried In My Chest

"Oh god no."

Derek hears the voice from somewhere far, far away, like a whisper in the back of his head. It's weird, not seeing anything. He tries opening his eyes, but nothing happens. Nothing changes. 

"Derek?"

The voice says his name but it doesn't  _feel_ like his name. It feels like a word without meaning. Yes, he's Derek, but he's not. Not the Derek his mother used to call, not the Derek Laura used to yell at, he's nothing, trying to get by, day by day, not Derek at all. 

"Derek, come on!"

He knows the voice, but doesn't know where from. Somehow, the voice leaves a bitter taste behind, bloddy and broken and sharp, like something burrowed deep in his chest, something that was not supposed there, isn't part of him, but something he can't let go because without it, he'd be even less Derek than he is right now. 

The voice is the only thing left for him. 

There is pain. His body is on fire and he still can't see anything and he tries to breathe but forgets how and then there is a new kind of pain, sharp and stingy, and suddenly there are colours, shapes, slowly forming, a face he can't see, and a fist, moving down to connect with his face and suddenly his muscles are working again. 

He grabs the hand and sees Stiles. 

_Sees_ him, for the very first time. Eyes wide open, surprised and unbelieving, desperate, staring at his hand and at Derek's hand and at Derek's face and there it is, the bitter taste of things to come, the knowledge that it's Stiles, buried in his chest like an axe, not to be removed. Anchoring him and bleeding him out because this is not what it's supposed to be like, Derek is  _alone_ , because he  _should be._ Because things burn when he touches, and Stiles cannot be burned. 

Stiles, who sits on Derek's chest while the pain of Jennifer's attack fades and the pain of Stiles existence grows stronger.

Stiles, who stares at him in disbelief.

_Jennifer._

And everything is back at once. He looks around, but she's nowhere to be seen.

"Where is she?", Derek says, still clutching Stiles's arm like it keeps him from drowning because _it is_ , even though there is no water, but there is no hope either, so Derek holds on to him, the last resort. 

"Jennifer? Gone with Scott's mom." 

Scott's mom. Scott. Pack. And suddenly Derek remembers that he's wrong, he's still Derek, he isn't alone, he has things he has to look out for.

"She took her?"

"Yeah, and if that's not enough of a kick to the balls, Scott left with Deucalion, okay? So we gotta get you out of here. The police are coming right now, and we gotta get you the hell out of here."

And Stiles touches him, pulls him up, and the  _we_ is hammering in Derek's ears, and Stiles  _cares_ , and it's like electricity, and Derek chokes a little and says: "Woah."

Woah. The greatest understatement he has ever said out loud. 

He stares at the hands, Stiles grip hard and firm and not letting go, and he remembers everything now, and...

"What about Cora?"

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know that Stiles isn't actually sitting on Derek's chest. Sue me. 
> 
> This just kinda came to me because I don't have enough pain in my life and my other WIP is too happy for this sort of thing. 
> 
> Yes, I most definitely stole that title from Derek's response to the Sheriff's question about the benefactors mouth. Hm. 
> 
> Hit me up on Tumblr: allthosepaperpeople.tumblr.com


End file.
